The Dance

The DJ announced the next song would be the last of the night, a final slow number to share with that special someone.

My legs were killing me. I’d only just slid down the wall to rest on our high school gymnasium’s floor. But this was it. Now or never.

I pushed myself up with help from the wall.

Don’t already be dancing with someone, I prayed.

She wasn’t. She sat by herself at a round table, sipping a soda.

Just don’t say no, I prayed as I walked up to her, as I asked her to dance. Just don’t say no.

She turned her pool-blue eyes on me. She smiled slowly, then she started laughing. She laughed and laughed and laughed so hard that I began to worry she might hurt herself. Then she got up and walked over to where a group of her friends were standing around, and struggled to stop laughing long enough to tell them what had happened. Her friends looked at where I was standing, frozen in place. They all broke out into laughter too.

I sat down with my back to them, so she wouldn’t see the smile on my face. She’d laughed at me, sure. But she’d never said no.

Karl El-Koura lives with his family in Ottawa, Canada's capital city, and works a regular job by day while writing fiction at night. To find out more about Karl, visit his website at ootersplace.com.